


Just know, I think you're rare

by Spooky_Jim



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spooky_Jim/pseuds/Spooky_Jim
Summary: Pietro's used to sleeping with people who are unavalable, physically or emotionally. he's used to being a back burner in someone else's story. what happens when his friends Set him up with a god of a man?they have powers in this UA but the avengers arn't really a thing. like they work for sheild, but don't inter cross very often. whatever, it will make sense eventually.





	1. A cheating husband

“Let’s just… stop while we’re ahead,” Pietro took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Clint’s direction lazily.

 

“Why old man? can’t keep up?” he’s on the bed, laying on his stomach as Clint gets dressed. He’s not even facing him, but Pietro can see the tension in his body.  The room reeked of sex, and they had a window open, allowing clean air to filter into the room. “I think you have it in you, don’t worry so much…” Clint sighed.Hehejfgj

 

“Pietro, how many other people are you sleeping with?” Pietro coughed on his cigarette, smoke awkwardly came out of his nose as he struggled to draw a breathe.

 

“What?” Clint turned around, his pants haphazardly buttoned as he struggled with the buttons for his shirt.

 

“I’m not stupid….” Clint began, Pietro was off of the bed, in his naked glory. He got into Clint’s face very quickly, leaving a blue streak behind him as he did so. The air in the room seemed to change. Suddenly the air was thick, as a storm brewed behind foreheads.

 

“Think very carefully about what you are accusing me of, old man.” Pietro said slowly, “I am not like Natasha, I don’t take lightly to being called a whore.”

 

“I’m not…” Pietro studied Clint’s face carefully. He backed away slowly, leveling a glare at his lover.

 

“You want me to say, that I am sleeping with them all, don’t you?” Pietro laughed, and rubbed his hand against his face. His head throbbed, he had a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him. “Greg, Blake, Igor, Paul, Steve, all of them. Will that make you happy?” He asked. Clint closed his eyes, no longer looking at Pietro, simply listening to him. “I know you are ashamed of being with me,”

 

Clint’s eyes flashed open, “I’m not...”

 

“My pardons, being seen with me, is what you are ashamed off, you don’t want them to know.” Clint deflated, and Pietro’s heart jumped into his chest.

 

“We can’t…. I can’t do this anymore.” Clint began, “It was fun, it was something new, dangerous… but-…” Pietro snorted, he sat on the bed, pushing his hands into his eyes, willing himself to wake up, hoping it was a bad dream.

 

“We aren’t having this conversation.” Pietro moaned, “I’m dreaming, in sleep, you know?” Clint shuffled awkwardly where he was, his clothing rustled. The smell of seafood from the restaurant down the road wafted in the window, confirmed that he was, in fact, not sleeping.

 

 

“I am not something dangerous that you get to mess with when your wife is out of town Barton.” Quicker than the flash, Pietro pulled pants on. “You don’t get to call me- to come to my home- to” he motioned towards his own body, “To love me, only to tell me that you have had enough.” He could feel tears building in his throat.

 

“Pietro…. I think…”

 

“You think do you? Good to know the old man has a brain.” Pietro sped around the room, stopping when his head began to throb. “What kind of an asshole are you? To break up with me?”

 

“I could have done it in worse ways kid…” Muttered Clint. He watched Pietro tear himself apart with a kind of morbid fascination.

 

“Ah yes,” Pietro said, he threw Clint’s phone at him, from the nightstand. Clint didn’t catch it, allowing it to beam him in the forehead. He stumbled slightly before regaining his footing. “Forgive me for not being happy that you didn’t break up with me over the internet.”

 

“Look, you don’t get it, I have a wife-….”

 

“You had a wife when we started this! When you started this! I did not seek you out Barton, you found me for this!”

 

“I Know!” Clint angrily ran his hands through his hair, “But I can’t do it anymore! I don’t have it in me! I have to come clean…”

 

“Then why come here today? Why come here, and love me, knowing that you will never do it again!”

 

“Think of it as a sendoff!” muttered Clint. Pietro fumed and got closer to Clint again, ready to have a screaming match.

 

“I am not a boat to be sent off! I am a man! A man you have been having sex with…” Clint covered Pietro’s mouth. He tilted his head and listened.

 

“Not so loud...”

 

Pietro shook himself free from Clint’s grip and proceeded to collect Clint’s things from the room, dropping them in a pile in front of him. “Do not come back.” Pietro said simply, “If you are not gone by the time I return, I will call the police, yes?” Without waiting for an answer, Pietro was out of the room.

 

Tears blurring his vision, Pietro ran to the roof. Barefoot, and without a shirt, the cold snow made him shiver as he sat on the roof, allowing his tears to slide down his face, melting the snow near him.  He could imagine the conversation, he ran it over in his head several times.

 

It could have gone better, it could always go better. Pietro was bad at talking, bad a making his point make sense. The snow fell slowly around him as he moped. They wouldn’t stick on his skin very long, his internal body tempeture was too warm for that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Natasha called, she stood by the door of the roof, wrapped in a blanket. Pietro looked over at her briefly before looking back out over the skyline.

 

“No,”

 

“Are you sure?” She slipped off her shoes and followed Pietro’s path through the snow. “Clint told me what happened.” Pietro snorted, and glared outwardly.

 

“He did, of course, he’s your…” Natasha sat in the snow next to him and flopped her blanket over his shoulders. “Friend,” the pair sighed, the lights had begun to dim outside. “I’m not some toy he gets to play house with, he comes, he leaves, he says he can’t do it again…. Only to flee to someone else’s arms.”

 

“He’s not mine either Pietro.” Natasha said gently. “I’m not even sure he belongs to Laura anymore. He’s made a bed for himself, and I’m sure Laura will sort him out.”

 

“Ah yes, they will fight, she’ll kick him out, and what? Where does that leave us?”

 

“Sitting in the snow on the rooftop.” Natasha replied, she shivered and drew the blanket closer around herself.

 

“It is not fair,”

 

“You were sleeping with a married man, a married man who has a kid named after you no less, what did you think would happen?” Pietro brushed the tears that had begun to fall from his eyes. A wave of emotion had flooded him.  

 

“I don’t know!” he muttered angrily, “Zat we would live together and live happily ever after.” Natasha squeezed his hand as she lay her head on his shoulder.

 

“And his family?”

 

“What about them?” He spat, she sighed again, obviously losing her patience.

 

“Where do they play into this fantasy of yours? Are they happy too?” Pietro was quiet for a moment, mulling the words over in his head.

 

“I don’t know.” He said softly, “I never really thought of them in my dreams…. I don’t want them to be unhappy, but….”

 

“Are you happy when you are with Clint?” Pietro opened his mouth to speak but before he could Natasha interrupted him. “And I don’t mean when you are in bed with him, I mean when you sit together, or hang out.”

 

“we don’t really…”

 

“Are you telling me you two are only around each other to have sex?” Pietro stood up and stretched.

 

“You are sounding very judgmental for someone still in their underwear Natalia.” Natasha shot a glare at Pietro and followed him as he stepped off the roof. They descended the stairs together, slowly.

 

“What you and Clint had wasn’t a real relationship, look, I’ve got some friends….”

 

“Don’t take pity on me Natasha.” Pietro muttered, “I have enough other people doing this.” They reached Pietro’s apartment and the welcomed her in, true to his word, Clint had left and not a trace of him remained. Well, that is, save for the purple socks sticking out from under the bed.

 

“I don’t pity you, I just know someone that ol’rust bucket works with, someone that seems like exactly your type.” Pietro huffed and began taking the sheets off of the bed.

 

“An emotionally unavailable asshole?” Natasha flopped on the ottoman and stuffed a pillow into her lap.

 

“No,” She said, Pietro threw all of the blankets and sheets into a basket and flopped on his now bare bed, “Tall blonde, and beefy.”

 

“Maybe I should just stay single forever.” He muttered, Natasha smacked him with her pillow and stood, pulling her phone from her back pocket as she did.

 

“Nope, not an option.” She cursed at her phone and picked her blanket up off of the floor. “Look, I’ve got to go.” she looked around the apartment and sighed, “Get yourself cleaned up, go and get something to drink, something that isn’t alcohol, and call your sister.” She blew a kiss at him before slamming the apartment door shut behind her.

 

Pietro closed his eyes, and rubbed his hand down his face, it was going to be a painful day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a time skip, but it makes sense so don't worry. Thor! our sweet smart boi! and some sassy natasha :D As always, I love comments, good or bad.

Pietro’s first move was to, of course, take an incredibly long shower and wallow in his own self-pity. No one liked to be rejected, but it was something that Pietro particularly detested. Years of perfecting his looks, his job as well, all heavily fed off of his sense of self-worth. Or rather, his vanity. His second step was to walk around his room, looking for maybe the most sexually provocative thing he owned. He opted out of running to work naked, while it might make him feel better, there was also the possibility of getting a friction burn on his dick from running. The third, and final thing Pietro did before he left his apartment, was turn off his phone.

 

Three weeks past, and Pietro did his best to forget about Clint. It didn’t help that his stupid socks were still in Pietro’s apartment. Or that whenever he came over to visit Natasha, Pietro’s heart would leap out of its cage, almost begging him to come back.

 

He wasn’t sad, he was angry. Who was Clint, to do this to him? He was quicksilver after all, the lover of many woman, the romancer of the century, the speedster who couldn’t be tied down. But he was also alone at night, and Pietro worried that one more night alone would kill him. Of course, he wasn’t really alone. He had men in his bed, women, sometimes several of both. But the void grew. He couldn’t look at the socks anymore. Couldn’t be bothered to clean Clint’s stinking mess from his house. He knew at this point that things were beginning to mold. The land lord would complain soon, as she always did.

 

 Natasha tried to help. She’d let herself into his apartment and wake him up. Force him into the shower and shoo out whatever idiot he’d gone to bed with. She never touched the mess, never touched Clint’s socks, or the piled of bills left over from numerous shows that he hadn’t counted in weeks. She just made sure he was breathing, often with a rough shake and stern words.

 

“Have you called your sister?” She asked, exactly three weeks after Clint left his socks on Pietro’s floor. Pietro peered at her through his hungover eyes and sighed.

 

“Havani.” He muttered, rolling over and stuffing his face into the crook of his arm. Natasha groaned and grabbed the edge of his blanket.

 

“Don’t think I won’t flip you out of this bed Pietro Django Maximoff!” Pietro peered at her, half rolling over to flip her the bird. Natasha growled and yanked. Pietro was forced from the couch, onto the cold hardwood flooring of his apartment.

 

“You witch,” He muttered, he tried to push himself up and stuck his elbow in something sticky. “Fuck! Do you know how dirty the damn floor is?”

 

“Well it wouldn’t happen if you’d clean your damn apartment!” Natasha fumed, she grabbed Pietro’s arm and yanked him up. Pietro pushed her off as his world swayed. His head throbbed and he could feel whatever he’d eaten the night before swimming around in his stomach. He gagged, and Natasha backed away from him.

 

“When was the last time you showered?” Pietro held up a hand to silence her. Her voice cut through the haze in his head, straight to the migraine that was forming.

 

“Shhhhh Natalia, we don’t want to wake the baby…” Natasha looked around in horror.

 

“You have a child in this mess?”

 

“No, I am the baby, don’t wake me!” Pietro flopped back down on his couch and covered his head with the jacket he’d been using as a blanket.

 

“Pietro! You can’t keep doing this!”

 

“And why the fuck not?” he asked her through his blanket shield, “I am perfectly fine killing myself with sex and the booze, yes?” Natasha grumbled a few Russian curses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

 

“why did I agree to baby sit you? You’re worse than a fucking child!”

 

“I may be a whore, but I’m no child,” Growled Pietro. Natasha picked up his phone from the coffee table and tried to hand it to her. He pushed it onto the floor with a loud clank.

 

Natasha, at the end of her patience snatched up the phone, “Call your fucking sister you idiot!” she shoved his dead phone at him and stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Pietro looked at the now cracked screen with a sigh. He had to go to work anyway.

 

An hour later, Pietro had ended up in a bdsm club, one he was familiar with. The music throbbed in and out as people moaned and laughed. Doms and subs flirted haplessly, and women slid up and down poles, their faces set in a way that was both tragic, and arousing. The air reeked of desperation and sex, and it was most possibly the best job Pietro had ever had in his life.

 

“Silver!” called a man from the bar. Pietro looked up at the mention of his stage name and slapped on a sexy grin. he couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he recognized his face, or rather, he recognized the fifty dollar bill the man was waving around.

 

“Oh darling,” Purred Pietro, he took a step towards the man, “It’s been to long…” a look passed over the man’s face, as he looked down.

 

“it has, but I’m paying for a friend. Go on and dance for me, something nice and provocative. I’ll send him over.” Pietro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was he, a whore? Pietro plucked the fifty from the man’s grasp and worked his way back to the pole.

He was easy to find, as any god would be. Tall, beefy, with muscles for days. He came to Pietro’s own pole and pulled out a wad of bills, he put them in his own mouth, and offered them to Pietro. Gracefully, Pietro accepted the money and began to spin. He was known for power moves sure. Moves that required a lot of strength, or moves that required speed, but this man, met Pietro’s eyes and whispered one word.

 

“Slowly,”

 

Hesitant, Pietro did as he was told, and slowly climbed the pole. He spun gracefully, flaunted his body, and did one of the most feminine routines he’d ever learned. The man continued to place money on the table, placing bills down every few seconds. His smile was warm, and if Pietro was in a strip club, he’d have thought the man’s interest was genuine.

 

“You have a very graceful body,” Pietro didn’t respond, but instead crawled across the catwalk to the man. Happily laying on his stomach in front of him, his own heals clinking as he smiled at him. “What is your name?”

 

“Silver,” Pietro purred, he placed a hand on the catwalk and pushed himself up, gracefully lifting himself off of the catwalk.

 

“Ah, but I want your real name,” He said, his gaze remained forward as Pietro circled him. Pietro frowned, and took the man’s hands in his own. They were huge. Pietro bent down to the man’s ear, blowing slightly as he did.

 

“Tell me yours then,” Pietro whispered, he moved back to the front of the man.

 

“No, look at me,” The man said, Pietro stopped, this wasn’t the first-time people had gotten off on looking at his eyes as he danced. He turned towards him and smiled. What he saw startled him.  There was a fire in the man’s eyes, it set a feeling in Pietro’s stomach. These were the eyes of someone who had seen some shit. “I am Thor, son of Odin. I have come to talk to you about….” He trailed off, Pietro’s blood ran cold. He could feel the eyes of the others in the club on him.

 

He shot a look back at that familiar face by the bar, but it was gone. The fifty dollar tipper had apparently already bounced. Pietro cursed to himself as he grabbed Thor’s hand and gently pulled him towards the back. This is were private dances here usually held; for people who had a lot of money, that is. Pietro turned on Thor, surprised he hadn’t connected the dots earlier. Of course, the man was a god, no man from earth looked like _that_.

 

“If Barnes or Rogers want to see me, they can come and get me like everyone else,” Pietro began, Thor waited patiently as Pietro spoke, “I am not shield’s lacky, I can do as I please,”

 

“Barnes and rogers did not send me,” Thor began, he opened his mouth to continue speaking, but Pietro cut him off.

 

“Oh, so Fury then? Maria? Peggy?” Thor shook his head.

 

“Pietro, please…” Pietro’s heart leapt, he grabbed the laplets of Thor’s shirt, and attempted to drag the man down to his level. Thor leaned forward slightly, but otherwise didn’t budge.

 

“It was fucking Clint wasn’t it?” He felt his stomach flip. Had he changed his mind? Did he was Pietro? A small voice in Pietro’s head warned his heart to calm down. A familiar buzz filled his ears as anger surged through him. “That bloody cu-”

 

“No, this is a personal visit.” Thor cut him off, he wore a cool look, like Pietro’s near melt down hadn’t fazed him at all.

 

“Personal? I don’t……” Natasha’s words from earlier came back to him, “…...oh, you’re Nat’s friend, aren’t you?” Thor nodded, Pietro could feel the heat in his face rise. Pietro looked away, his own words ringing back in his ears as he realized what he’d done. “I-…. It’s been a bad day.” He said softly.

 

“I know,” Thor said, he sat down on the table that Pietro should have been dancing on, “That’s why I’m here.” Pietro snorted as he sat down next to Thor. The table was cold on his exposed body. Now that he wasn’t moving the AC made the skin on his arms prickle. The smell of sex was overwhelming in here, and to be honest, the only place Pietro would willing sit was the stage that was regularly sterilized. He fidgeted, his leg going so damn fast it was a blur. If Thor noticed, he said nothing.

 

“To fuck my brains out and be on your way?” he questioned. Sure, He could always go for a fuck, especially if it was someone as beautiful as Thor, “But I’m not so sure I’m in the mood for that.”

 

“I’m here to be what you need, and right now, I believe you need a friend.” Thor put his arm around Pietro, pulling him in for a hug. Thor was warm, like there was sunshine behind his massive chest.

“Isn’t it weird? We just met…” He struggled against the hug a little. Thor snorted, and held Pietro at an arm’s length.

 

“We’ve met before, I believe you tried to steal my hammer,” Pietro opened his mouth to say something – most likely something he’d regret – before closing it again. A foggy memory of a vaguely familiar man standing over him flooded his head.

 

“I… oh.” Despite the nagging doubt eating at his insides, Pietro enveloped Thor into a hug. “I guess we can… be friends…That sounds nice.”

 

 

“Always,” Crowned Thor, he held the hug for a few minutes longer, “I have to go soon, I have to arrange some things with shield, but I will be back before your shift ends, if you don’t mind.” Pietro shrugged. Thor stood, and patted Pietro’s head. If anyone else had done it, he would have gone off, but the way Thor did it…. It didn’t feel too bad. Thor took Pietro’s hand, and pushed something into his palm before leaving the back room. Pietro slowly opened his palm to find two fifties. For the second time, Pietro’s face colored. He wanted to shove the money back in Thor’s face. But… at the same time, money was money.

 

Pietro kept one eye on the door all night, constantly looking over at it when he should have been paying attention to paying customers. Instead, his mind was stuck on the image of Thor. Not naked, but rather, his soft eyes, and the way he had spoken to Him. But Thor never came, instead his shift came and went. Pietro stayed on the stage longer than he was supposed to, dancing for drooling men, and adoring women. It wasn’t a real problem, his own exhaustion slowly edged away as his frustration grew.

 

“Silver!” a sharp voice rang, Pietro looked down from the pole he’d been climbing. He saw that his onlookers had vanished, as had most of the people in the club, instead the owner stood at the base of the stage, a cigarette dangling from her lip as she waited, hands on hips. “Get down here!” Quick as he was, Pietro released the bar and stood before her. “It’s almost seven in the morning kid,” Pietro looked around, almost as if looking for a clock, but there were none. There was no real use for a clock in a strip club.

 

“oh, it is, isn’t it?” Pietro looked at the pile of crumpled bills piled on his stage, and then back at himself. He had bruises forming on his legs, from holding himself up on the pole so long.

 

“Yeah, you’ve got two minutes….” He was gone in a flash, running to the back to grab his bag, slipping off his heals and slipping on sneakers. He snatched his bag and quickly ran back to the stage, shoving all of his money into it as the world slowly moved around him. “to get out.” She finished, Pietro stood before her, drastically different than he had been.

 

“Thanks Silvia… I’ll see you in a few days.” He blew her a kiss as he walked out. She shook her head and took a long drag of her cigarette.

 

“Damn I hate it when you do that.”

 

“I know,” he called, “that’s part of the reason that I do it!”

 

The cold air stung Pietro’s face as he stepped out onto the street. It has showed again, and the world was covered in an almost seamless blanket of snow. Almost that is, except for the foot prints leading towards the Club. Pietro did a quick scan for people out wandering around but found nothing. How odd it was, that there were footsteps leading to the building, but not away. The only other person in the club was Silvia. Pietro shrugged it off and adjusted his bag onto his shoulder. He turned in the direction of his apartment and took off. He went quickly began walking on top of the snow, instead of sinking into it.

 

When he reached the door to his building, he was greeted by Thor, who, buy the looks of it, had only just arrived. Pietro slowed down to a half beside him, making the larger man jump.

 

“You never came.” Pietro said, Thor smiled, and held out one of the cups he was holding.

 

“No, my requisite with shield took longer than I thought it would. But I am here now.” Pietro snorted and took the drink. He pulled his key from his bag and jiggled them in his bag. “But you got off work hours ago.”

 

“I stayed late,” He shrugged, “didn’t want to miss you if you showed up.” Thor frowned, and followed Pietro into the building. He stomped by the door, knocking the crusted snow off of his boots. He places his umbrella by the door and readjusted his back pack on his shoulder. Pietro looked him up and down, as boldly as he dared. He looked good, hair half up and half down. A silver ring glistened in his ear and a warm smiled filled his eyes.

 

“Well, I promised to stop in on Natasha….” Thor began, Pietro did his best to keep his face impassive as he began walking towards the stairs. Walking mind, you, walking was completely for Thor’s benefit. “But when I finish with her, would you mind if I came up for a chat?”

 

Pietro laughed in spite of himself. It was so weird, so formal. So… _alien._

 

“Yeah whatever man, just ring the bell.” Before Thor could answer, Pietro was up the stairs in his apartment. He leaned against his door and let out a sigh. The apartment stank. Empty pizza boxes, burnt coffee, and empty beer bottles littered the area. A quick walk to his room revealed that _yes_ Clint’s purple socks were still half under his bed, angrily glinting at him. Whatever, who was he to project his anger on socks.

 

Suddenly, Pietro realized who his home would look like to an outsider. While he had furniture, he hadn’t cleaned in what? Months? Clint never complained about the mess. He was actually more often than naught a huge contributing factor to it. Pietro pulled his phone from his pocket and sighed. There wasn’t enough time to call a cleaning company. Which meant, unfortunately, he’d have to clean the mess himself.

 

“How wonderful…” he scrubbed his hand over his face, pushing his hair out of the way before he got to work. In seconds the apartment looked better than it had in a while. He grabbed a trash bag and threw out every food container in sight. He did his best to not inhale to deeply as he did, the smell of mold powerful with some of the food. Minutes tick by slowly at superspeed, but cleaning, or rather, deep cleaning still takes time. Pietro was up to his elbows in depression trash, the smell of pines-sol thick in the air, when the doorbell rang. Pietro’s heart jumped into his throat. He glanced at the clock, he’d been cleaning for an hour. He looked around the apartment, still dissatisfied with the mess it was in. Clothing strewn about the place, full trash bags sitting by the door.

 

“Just a minute!” He hollered, He couldn’t make out the muffled reply that came. Instead the person behind the door banged on it. Pietro bristled, and ran to the door, wrenching it open. Natasha stood in front of him, a frustrating look in her face. “What?” he demanded.

 

“Stop banging on the damn floor!” she growled, and plug in your damn phone, I’ve tried calling you three times!” Pietro rubbed his face with his elbow, keeping his gloved hands away from his face.

 

“Anything else?” Natasha looked around him and raised her eyebrow.

 

“Are you ready for him to come up?” Pietro furiously shook his head. “Do you need help?”

 

“No! I’m an adult… I…actually, could you take a few of the bags to the trash chute?” Natasha rolled her eyes and held out her hand. Pietro thrust two of the five bags at her and blew her a kiss. She flipped him off, turning on her heal and marching the bags down the hall. Pietro heaved a sigh of relief and grabbed two of the bags. He passive aggressively speed-walked down the hallway after her. He knew from experience that running with trash bags was a bad idea.

 

“when do you want me to let him up?” Natasha asked, she was already half-way down the stairs. Pietro stuck his head over the railing and peered down at her, still holding the trash bags in hand.

 

“Thirty minutes?” Natasha winked, and continued down the stairs. Her house slippers smacked loudly against the tile floors as she did. “Your apartment looks great by the way. Who would’ a thought?”

 

“Fuck you Romanoff!” Pietro called. He heaved the bags into the trash, rolling his eyes at the sound of Natasha’s blooming laughter trickling up the stairs. He ran back to his apartment, careful to shut his door gently, trading lightly as he moved around. Sonner than he’d have liked, he was done cleaning. The windows were open, to flush out the overpowering smell of cleaner. Now was the matter of cleaning himself.  He knew he could be in and out of the shower in seconds, rationally, he thought he could have a few seconds to himself to breathe. He sat on the couch and tilted his head back. He closed his eyes, heaving a heavy sigh as he did.

 

He'd only meant to close them for a seconds, but no sooner had he closed his eyes was he sleeping. He was unaware in the following minutes, of Natasha gently letting Thor his apartment. Thor smiled at the slumbering speedster, and shooed Natasha from the apartment. Thor looked around, impressed. He’d seen the before, earlier when Natasha had tried to convince him to meet Pietro. It was considerably cleaner.  Thor took it upon himself to Grab a blanket from what he assumed was Pietro’s bedroom. Thor noticed the purple socks peeking out from under the bed and picked them up. He knew they were Clint’s, as he’d been the one to gift them to Clint at his last birthday celebration.

 

“I’ll just give them back to him,” he murmured. When he returned to Pietro, he gently covered him up. Choosing to wait for him to wake rather than to disturb his sleep. He sat on the couch beside Pietro and pulled out his own phone. A gift from stark, with all the books he could want. He was learning a new language, the one the natives in Wakanda spoke. A smile spread across his face as he began to read. He hoped that Pietro slept a long time.

 

 

 


End file.
